Tuesday, November 27, 2012

I hate how that happens. One day, you're singing a happy tune because the kids are finally back at school, and the next - BOOM! Christmas.

I've at least started working on presents. Which puts me ahead. But I promised the girls we'd make all our cards. Which puts me behind. And we've still got mice. Which makes me crazy.

The other day, my husband had to run out to the grocery store. He got in the car and started driving. While waiting at a stop light, he noticed a clump of leaves on the windshield and started the wipers. Then stared into the eyes of the little brown mouse clinging to it for dear life. Startled, he stopped the wipers and considered his options. Then he started the wipers again. The mouse stubbornly clung on.

When he got to the store, the mouse ran down under the hood. Husband was pretty sure that it had disembarked at the store, and our problems were solved. Because of course, it's only one mouse, right? A genius mouse that drags away snap-traps, and considers glue traps a buffet.

But no. Unsurprisingly, I still hear them. More than one, I'm sure, unless as well as being a genius, it's a ventriloquist. Which would be interesting.

We did catch one a few days ago. My grandma called me at around lunch time to let me know, and I asked in my wimpy-scaredy-cat voice if we needed to get rid of it right away or if we could wait til Husband was home. We both decided we'd wait.

I was curious about this genius mouse though, and decided to go have a look.

I opened the cupboard and saw a (not tiny!) mouse laying on the sticky paper. He looked sleek, and clean, and well cared for. I almost felt bad, until he sort of heaved and lunged at me. At which point, I screamed and slammed the cupboard. Because I am a huge wimp. Husband had to "take care of it" when he got home. I plugged my ears and squealed when he tried to tell me about it, so I can't really tell you what that means.

I know in my heart though, that that was not the mouse. This little guy had the misfortune of being sent out to scout. The genius himself would never venture out of the wall. Because he's a genius.

Sunday, November 11, 2012

When I first heard Skittering Thing, I was the only one. And no one seemed to believe me. He would skitter around in the ceiling every night as I lay below cringing, and wondering when he was going to nibble his way out of the ceiling so he could gnaw my face off. I finally convinced the husband that there was indeed something in the ceiling around the time that my grandma found some droppings in her kitchen - which is coincidentally above my bedroom.

So, Husband bought some "ultrasonic rodent repellers", and convinced me that would do the trick. No killing required! I got some earplugs so that the stupid ultrasonic thing didn't keep me awake - because apparently, I've got rodent ears - and relaxed a little.

It lasted about a week.

I was in the bath, relaxing with a book, when I heard it. A little thump, followed by frantic scrabbling. He's back. Not only is he back, but I think he's brought friends, and I think they're getting in right above my bathroom ceiling.

Now, in case I haven't mentioned it before, we've got drop ceilings throughout most of our apartment. So all that is standing between me and a nest of whatever these things are is a half inch of fibreglass tile. It is freaking me out.

He hasn't had the nerve to actually come into our apartment*. He is bugging Grandma though. He has pooped on her counter, and in her cupboards, and on the dining room table. He pooped in her toaster. He even had the balls to come out while she was eating in the other room, and snack on some crumbs left from making dinner. And leave some poop of course.

No more Mister Nice Guy; if the little jerk won't leave, then he's going to have to die. Him and all his friends.

We set up a trap in the cupboard under Grandma's sink where it appeared they were getting into the kitchen. The back of the cupboard is separated from the cabinet base and you can see right into the ceiling, so it seemed like the logical place to start.

The next day, Grandma asked if we'd moved the trap. Uhm... No. So we set up another one, and again, the next day it was gone. So now, not only do we have a little jerk who likes to taunt my grandma, but one who knows how to disable and cart away mousetraps.

I bet he's sitting in the wall on his little pile of disarmed traps, eating a peanut butter covered raisin, and laughing at me right now.

You'll have to imagine the fangs.

*I base this claim on the fact that we've had plates of food sitting out on the counter over night - yes, because we're animals - and they are untouched in the morning. Although maybe it just doesn't like our food.

Monday, November 5, 2012

Alright. Considering that here it is, November 5th, and this is my first post of the month, I guess I'm already out, right? But I am going to attempt to post SOMETHING once a day for the remainder of the month. And Husband is of the opinion that if I post twice a few times, then it all evens out.

I've been pretty busy lately. Which is highly unusual for me. As I'm not a super social person, I find that having two events in one weekend can wipe me right out. And since I had something planned for every single weekend, along with playdates and volunteering during the week, for almost a month now, I've been pretty wiped.

The week following Blissdom, I got sick. Not sick enough to lie down and tell everyone to get their own freaking breakfast, but just sick enough that I was rather unpleasant to be around. And I'm still sick. I keep hoping for a fever. If I could just have a nice fever and night sweats, surely, that would clear out my sinuses, right?

That's not actually what I was planning to write about; I just needed to whine about it bit.

Anyway. This past weekend, since I haven't been around lately, I decided to devote some time to Beege. Kee and I spend every afternoon together. While we're not always off doing fun things, that is two and half hours of alone time for us. Beege gets none.And I get sad every time I realise that.

So. I took her on a date. I gave her all of Saturday and told her to go ahead and pick whatever she wanted to do. Her choice? She wanted to go to the library and play Uno, and then have lunch at Wendy's. Sounds good.

We went to the library, and walked towards the children's section. Rather, I walked. Beege took off running into the stacks, and by the time I reached the information desk, she had looked down the aisles and come back to the desk and was asking the woman there "where the Cam Jansen books might be found?" She showed us where they were and Beege picked out a few, then we found a quiet corner to play Uno in.

I took off my coat and scarf and settled in for an hour or so of playing cards and chatting with my kid. We played one hand, and she said "Good game, Mummy. Let's go." And she was off again, looking for a book to take home that she could read to Kee. "We've got to go to the little kid's section, Mummy!" Alrighty.

So, as I wrestled back into my coat, and gathered up our pile of books, she picked out a book for Kee. Then it was time to head to Wendy's. Total time in the library? Twelve minutes.

Wendy's was nice and empty, so I figured we could settle in there for a nice long chat. Unfortunately, Beege has picked up her father's habit of eating like it's a contest, and we were out of there in fifteen minutes too. Okay, this was not turning into the leisurely afternoon of togetherness that I had planned.

When I told her we still had a lot of time and asked her if she wanted to go somewhere else, she picked Michaels. We spent half an hour wandering around touching all the wool and looking at the "magic window of happiness" (otherwise known as a glass block wall with coloured lights) for a while. We picked out some things to make Christmas cards, and once again, she made sure we got a treat for her sister.

Then we came home, because oddly enough, spending way too much money in a craft store adds up to some kind of heavy bags, and she didn't want me to have to carry them around. So. While it may not have been the relaxed afternoon of chatting that I envisioned (School is fine. Friends are fine. She is fine.), I did get to remind myself of something.

I have a wonderful daughter.

I have the kind of kid who makes sure that her sister doesn't feel left out, even when it's her special day. I have the kind of kid who will pause in the middle of stuffing fries in her mouth to jump up and hold the door for an elderly couple. I have the kind of kid who will pick my favourite store to go to when given the choice of anywhere she wants. I have the kind of kid who thinks about other people's comfort.

So the next time she's dawdling in the bathroom, yelling at her sister, or using up entire bottles of shampoo, I need to remember: That is all stuff she'll grow out of, and I need to stop letting it bother me, because the person that she's growing into is amazing.

This is Me:

I am a stay at home mum, a writer, and an artist. I've got three amazing little girls. Beege is 11, Keebee is 9, and Bean joined us in February 2016. They keep me on my toes and don't give me time for much else. They call me Mummy, but most people call me Jessica. Oh, Husband is around here somewhere too. (He's pretty awesome.)